


keep me in your back pocket

by misspamela



Series: pocket boyfriends [1]
Category: Monsta X (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, M/M, Mutual Pining, dicks out in the noraebang, except if the timelines don't exactly match up, i swore i'd never write rpf again, let's call this an au where it makes sense, pocket boyfriends, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-22 22:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11389677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspamela/pseuds/misspamela
Summary: “Kihyun,” Namjoon said slowly. “That friend of Hobi’s?” Yoongi couldn’t see him, but he could hear the carefulness in his tone. This was Namjoon Working Up to Something, and Yoongi felt his heart beat a little faster in anticipation.





	keep me in your back pocket

**Author's Note:**

> Blame for this goes directly to quettaser and popliar. They know why.
> 
>  
> 
> (I didn't need a new fandom, but wow, do I ever have one. Hello!)

Yoongi thought he was hallucinating, at first. 

He was exhausted, tired in the way where he felt three or four steps removed from reality. He’d trained this morning (dancing, _fuck _) and went right to work, his shift blurring past him in a haze of muscle fatigue and hunger. He should have eaten and gone to sleep, but instead he was at a friend’s studio, thinking about the beat that had been gnawing away at the back of his brain all day.__

 

__  
__  


 

Yoongi had the security codes to get in after hours and the place was dark, locked down. Normally he’d use Big Hit’s, but it was closed for construction for two awful, anxiety-producing days. He’d been thrown off already, not having access to his normal equipment, on top of the hunger and fatigue, so it was no wonder he thought he was hearing things.

When he heard the voice, floating high and soft and sweet in the darkness, his first thought was _Min Yoongi_ , you’ve finally fucking lost it. He pushed open the studio door, ready to find nothing or a ghost, or like, some creepy interdimensional song demon (he was so fucking tired, really) and instead, there was a boy. 

He was a trainee, that much was clear. Smudged remnants of makeup on his face that couldn’t quite cover the exhaustion in his eyes, wrapped in a giant baby blue hoodie and black skinny jeans with an artful rip on one thigh, he looked like every other teenage boy hopeful wandering around Seoul. 

But that voice. 

The boy was singing into a mic, headphones on. It was something Yoongi didn’t recognize, soft and sweet, a little haunting. Yoongi couldn’t stop staring at this boy with his sharp, hungry face and ripped jeans, with a voice that high and clear and perfect. Mid-note, he noticed Yoongi and startled, almost knocking himself over. “Fuck!” he yelped. He ripped the headphones off his ears. His hair was black -- whoever he’s training with clearly hasn’t given him a “look” yet - and sticking up at odd angles. “Uh, hello?” the boy asked, clearly annoyed. A wave of longing and disorientation hit Yoongi. He wanted this boy to sing to him some more. He wanted to hear him sing Yoongi’s music. 

And then he remembered that neither of them are ghosts, and this wasn’t a dream, and his family raised him better than that. “Sorry,” he said, bowing quickly, wincing at the pull of his sore muscles. “Min Yoongi.” 

“Yoo Kihyun,” the boy - Kihyun - unfolded himself from the chair and gave a halfhearted bow. He was just a little taller than Yoongi, but not by much. He looked around, his eyebrows raised. “So...you what? Creep around music studios? Startle people professionally?” He smirked at Yoongi, flopping back into the chair.

“Yeah,” Yoongi drawled. “Big money in startling these days.” He rubbed his eyes and yawned, stretching. Whatever weirdness had passed, and in his confusion, the beat that had been niggling at him was gone. It was okay, though. Yoongi knew it would come back better, or different. He’d learned not to hold on to the music too tightly. 

“I was going to try and work on a track, but I’m wiped.” He nodded toward the mic. “Your voice. It’s really good too.” Inadequate, but those were the best words he had right now.

Kihyun smiled. “Not good enough to debut yet, but thanks.” He laughed, letting his head fall back on the chair. “This is crazy, right? We spend all day busting our asses, singing, dancing, rapping...and then we sneak off to what? Make more music.” He caught Yoongi’s eye, letting him in on the joke. The joke was on them, really, because Yoongi would literally bleed all day to make music, and he could see that in Kihyun’s face too. You didn’t do this life if it didn’t matter so much. “I’m assuming you’re another trainee,” Kihyun said. “I’m at Starship.”

“Big Hit,” Yoongi said, waiting for a derisive look that never came.

Kihyun just nodded and stood, stretching, bouncing up on his old, cracked sneakers. Even under the hoodie, Yoongi could see that he was wiry, built like a whip. “Nice to meet you, Yoongi-ssi,” he said. “Good luck with the song.” 

Yoongi thought about asking him out for a drink, but in the time it took for him to pull the thought up from the fog of his exhausted mind, the boy was gone. 

 

……………………………………………….

A few weeks later, Yoongi came home to a miracle. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life,” Hoseok said, dragging him into their crappy little apartment. “Look at this! Ah, my heart!” He closed his eyes in rapture, pounding at his chest. He was being silly and overdramatic, but Yoongi could see actual tears threatening at the corner of his eyes. 

Hoseok shoved him into the kitchen area, just a sink and a two-burner stovetop and a microwave, flanked by a set of shelves that were usually depressingly empty. Usually. “What?” Yoongi asked, his throat closing with emotion. “What...how?”

The shelves were overflowing. Boxes and boxes of ramyeon, kimchi tuna, giant bags of rice, seaweed snacks, chips, cola, actual vegetables, eggs...Yoongi thought of the money he’d been painfully saving up to get groceries and he suddenly understood why Hoseok was crying. “How?” he asked again. 

Hoseok slung his arm around Yoongi and pulled him closer. “Namjoon’s wonderful, perfect angel of a mother. Eomma came to visit, blessed us with these gifts, and left to take Namjoon out for a nice steak dinner.” 

They didn’t have to buy groceries for weeks. Weeks. They’d have a cushion, some time to save. Everything in his chest relaxed and he felt giddy, light with relief. 

“I know that look,” Hobi said. “Stop thinking about saving money. We’re young, we have a free night and unexpected riches.” He grinned. “We’re going out and getting the cheapest chicken and beer Seoul can offer, yeah?” He pulled Yoongi over and loudly kissed him on the cheek. “Chicken, Min Suga! Chicken and beer!” He did a little dance that might have possibly looked like a chicken, if a chicken had perfect coordination and liked to break out the body rolls. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Yoongi waved him away. One meal wouldn’t break them now, they could still save a good chunk. But the idea of going into a crowded restaurant or a bar...he would rather not. Yoongi didn’t like clubs or bars unless he was performing, or had a lot more money for booze. 

But of course Hoseok knew that, so they ended up hanging out down at the Han river, boxes of chicken piled in their laps, drinking beers Yoongi had stuffed in his bag. It was getting a little cold to be outside and the only people out were other young people, drinking and getting loud, and some foreign tourists taking pictures and talking excitedly in a language Yoongi didn’t recognize. 

They just sat in comfortable silence, watching people hurry past them, bundled against the cold. Yoongi didn’t love being cold, but he loved the calm of the late-autumn night, everyone and everything a little sharper, a little clearer. He cracked open another beer and bumped his shoulder against Hoseok’s. “This was a good idea.” 

“You should listen to me more often, hyung.” Hobi bumped him back and smiled. “I wonder if-- Hey!” He jumped up and waved. “Yah! Chae Hyungwon! Hyungwon-ssi!” Yoongi looked up to see a guy walking toward them who stopped, clearly startled. He was tall and lanky and handsome, the kind of beautiful that was almost odd in person. 

This pretty guy, Chae Hyungwon, apparently, squinted into the darkness, his face clearing in surprise. “Jung Hoseok?” He smiled and clasped Hoseok’s hand, clapping him on the shoulder. “Man, how are you?” 

“Ahhh, you know, working working.” Hoseok gestured to Yoongi, who stood, brushing grass off his pants. “Min Yoongi, this is Hyungwon-ssi! From Gwangju!” Yoongi bowed and shook his hand, smiling. He could have guessed from the accent. 

Chae Hyungwon didn’t seem to be much of a talker, but that never stopped Hoseok. They were off and running, rambling about old teachers and cafes that had closed and other stuff that Yoongi only caught part of. That was okay. Hoseok was lonely and missed home so much. Yoongi was glad he had the chance to reconnect with an old friend, and Yoongi was content to drift on his own thoughts, running a bass line through his head, trying different time signatures, different keys, tweaking it. 

“Oh!” Hyungwon’s shout broke into his thoughts. “Ah, Kihyun-hyung! Over here!” 

There were plenty of guys named Kihyun wandering around Seoul, it didn’t mean it was- 

Of course it was. Yoo Kihyun, in a parka and black hoodie this time, his face free of makeup but not looking any softer, came strolling up the walkway. “Where did you go?” he asked Hyungwon irritably. “Jooheon took off, and then you were gone--”

“Why are you asking him where he went?” Yoongi interrupted, stretching and pulling himself up to standing. He leaned backwards, cracking his spine. “He’s right here, obviously.” 

Kihyun looked at him, his mouth in a little circle of surprise. “Startling people again, Yoongi-ssi?”

“That one was on the house,” Yoongi said. “It barely counted.” He smiled at Kihyun, who smiled back. He felt that oddness in his stomach again, the sense that this was happening outside reality. This night, like the night they met, was its own little bubble of time, separate from the daily grind of trainee life.

That’s when they noticed that Hoseok and Hyungwon were staring at them, mouths falling open. Kihyun nodded thoughtfully at Yoongi and said quietly, “Ah, you’re much more talented than I realized, Yoongi-nim. You were actually startling these two.” He leaned over, warmth pressing briefly into Yoongi’s side, surprising and distracting enough that he didn’t realize Kihyun was stealing his chicken.

“Do you guys know each other?’ Hoseok asked, his mouth turned down in a confused pout. Yoongi didn’t blame him for his confusion. They’d been living in each others’ back pockets 24 hours a days, 7 days a week. “Well, clearly you do,” he continued, his eyebrows raised. “You stole Yoongi-hyung’s chicken and you still have all your fingers.” He smiled tentatively at Yoongi, looking for an explanation.

 _I met him when we were ghosts in a dream_ , Yoongi thought. “Yeah, we’ve met,” he said, looking at Kihyun, who was devouring a piece of Yoongi’s chicken in a way that spoke of long hours of dance practice and not enough food. Yoongi sighed to himself, and handed over the rest of the chicken.

“Are you fucking - no.” Kihyun shoved the box back at him. 

“Take it or I’ll throw you in the river,” Yoongi said, rolling his eyes. 

“He will,” Hoseok added, nodding. “Just take it, it’s easier.” 

“I’m taller, I could take you,” Kihyun said, still pushing the box at Yoongi, but weakly.

“Awww, that’s adorable,” Hyungwon said, patting Kihyun on the head. “Is that the first time you ever got to say that, hyung?” 

Kihyun gave up and grabbed the box of chicken to his chest. He shook his head and laughed, dimples appearing at the top of his cheeks. “You’re going to regret that, Chae Hyungwon,” he said, still laughing. It was kind of a scary laugh. They continued to bicker, but Yoongi tuned them out, looking at the sharp shapes and angles of Kihyun’s face. He wasn’t pretty like Hyungwon or striking like Namjoon or even charismatic like Hobi. And yet, Yoongi wanted to trace every angle of that face with his fingers, press into those dimples, and that little pursed mouth...fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. 

He didn’t really have time in his life for a crush. 

“Come on,” Kihyun said, bumping into him and surprising him from his thoughts. “Let’s ditch these assholes. Can I show you a track I’m working on? I’d love your opinion.”

Well, fuck. 

They ended up at a cafe, drinking Americanos, sharing Yoongi’s earbuds and listening to music. In between dissecting tracks and recommending increasingly obscure musicians to each other, Yoongi learned that they were both ‘93 years and that Kihyun was a new trainee at Starship. He was, unsurprisingly, a lead vocalist. The songs he played for Yoongi were even more impressive than what Yoongi had heard in the studio that night. He had a high, clear, strong voice with a pure tone. “I have to work on my dancing,” Kihyun said with a grimace. “I’m just a voice right now. I need more to debut.” 

Yoongi told him that he hated dancing, but he was working on it too, and that Hoseok was helping him. He told him about writing songs with Namjoon, bringing beats to match Namjoon’s lightning-fast lyrics. He told him about the kid Bang PD had found, some child prodigy down in Busan he was trying to recruit. “I don’t know if Namjoon and I are ready to be parents,” he said, sighing. “Joonie can barely find his shoes in the morning.”

They didn’t talk about their families, or home. You never knew what was a sensitive subject with other trainees, and god knows Yoongi didn’t really want to open up about that shit right now. Kihyun’s accent was pure Seoul, crisp and precise. He spoke the same way, calm and clear and quiet. Despite the anxious thrum of attraction running through his body, Yoongi found him restful. 

“I play the piano,” Kihyun said, and Yoongi almost lost his breath again. 

“So do I,” he said, and he could feel himself grinning. He knew he was good enough to impress almost anyone, and he really, really wanted to impress Kihyun. Crush or not, Yoongi wanted to be the best in the goddamn room. “We should play together sometime.”

“Give me your phone,” Kihyun said, and he looked -- he looked up at Yoongi through his lashes in a way that made him think, made his heart beat double, but then it was gone. Kihyun was the calm, clear, sharp Seoul boy once again. Yoongi glanced down and saw that Kihyun had put in his number and his KKT profile. Yoongi shot him a return message on both, because yeah, he guessed they were friends now. 

 

_[01:00: Yoo Kihyun is a dirty chicken thief]_

 

 _[01:46: I only steal clean and pure chickens, you perv]_  
……...

 

Two weeks later, Kihyun sent Yoongi a selca. He was on the floor of what looked like a dance studio, his black hair plastered to his face. Yoongi could see the edge of his white, sweat-soaked t-shirt. 

 

__

_KH [21:34]: Dead._

__

 

__

_Me [21:37]: SNS from the grave, impressive_

 

_KH [21:38]: i’m resurrecting myself to go see a friend sing at a bar on friday, you in?_

 

_Me [22:00]: i guess i can be seen with your gross zombie ass_

 

_KH[24:56]: i owe you dinner. I’ll pay for the finest (cheapest) kimbap Insadong has to offer_

 

_  
Me [24:57]: free food, i’m definitely in_

 

Yoongi didn’t know if it was the kind of thing where he could invite Namjoon and Hobi, so he didn’t. He knew he might be setting himself up for a night where he was hanging out with a bunch of Starship trainees, but. It could be just him and Kihyun, and if that’s the case? He didn’t need Namjoon monopolizing the conversation, or running the risk of wrangling a shitfaced Hoseok back to the apartment. He was just maintaining his dignity, that was why he kept quiet.

Until it was Friday night and Yoongi showered and got dressed. And then changed his shirt, because it looked weird with those pants. Then changed his pants, because he liked the first shirt better. He added a necklace and took off a ring, then put another two rings on. He was in the middle of deciding between a hat or a bandanna when Namjoon came in to their room. “Hyung?” he asked curiously. “You going out?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi said, lifting the hat up and placing it gently on his head, then pulling it off quickly before it could mess up his hair. “A friend of Kihyun’s is singing at some bar, no cover, cheap drinks.”

“Kihyun,” Namjoon said slowly. “That friend of Hobi’s?” Yoongi couldn’t see him, but he could hear the carefulness in his tone. This was Namjoon Working Up to Something, and Yoongi felt his heart beat a little faster in anticipation. 

“Friend of a friend of Hobi’s, and I’d met him before. Why?” Hat. Definitely hat. 

“Is uh,” Namjoon said, then stopped. Yoongi turned to look at him. Namjoon was picking at his blanket absently, looking down at his own hands. “Is it...a date?” 

Ah, fuck. Nobody knew him better than Joon. He should have seen this coming. Yoongi had told him, from the beginning, about fucking around with guys sometimes. He hadn’t wanted anything to derail their goals, or to come as a surprise later. And he really wanted to know if he was tying his future music career to some homophobic asshole. Namjoon had been aggressively, enthusiastically cool with it, and they’d never spoken of it again. 

“No,” Yoongi said, turning back to the mirror and tugging the hat on. “It’s not.” That felt partially untrue somehow, and he could never, ever hide things from Namjoon, so he blurted out “I don’t know if he--” he clamped his mouth shut. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I don’t think so.”

Namjoon was quiet for a moment, then he stood up and tossed his favorite black hat, the one he got in Osaka, at Yoongi. “Wear this one,” was all he said. “Looks good with that shirt.”

 

…….

When Yoongi got off the bus, Kihyun was waiting. He was wearing a nice coat, the kind you might wear with a suit, and a scarf. He looked expensive. Yoongi started questioning the hat choice. He didn’t see Yoongi right away, so Yoongi could watch him from a distance. To other people, he might look disdainful, maybe even a little pissed off. But Yoongi could see the distracted look in his eyes, could see his lips moving ever so slightly, his hand tapping out a beat against his leg. Yoongi thought about trying to surprise him again, but Kihyun caught sight of him and smiled, waving. 

“You’re kind of dressed up for cheap kimbap and a bar,” Yoongi said, then immediately wanted to kick himself. Real smooth, Min Yoongi. He managed to let Kihyun know that he noticed his looks and that he somehow disapproved? Nice. Good job. 

Two spots of color rose on Kihyun’s cheeks and Yoongi immediately felt worse. “You look good,” he said quickly. “I want to steal that coat.” 

“You know how long I saved for this coat?” Kihyun asked. “I ate a meal and a half a day for weeks to get this coat. It better look damn good.” He looked away from Yoongi as he said it. The cold was making his cheeks even redder.

It did. He did. 

The kimbap was, as advertised, cheap as hell and a little plastic-tasting. The bar was your basic dive, too dark and loud to hear or see each other properly, but they managed to snag a corner with a decent view of the stage. They pressed their shoulders together trying to get into a little alcove that felt separate from the rest of the crowd. 

Yoongi didn’t love crowds, or loud bars. He wasn’t interested in standing in a shifting, bumping crowd of strangers, trying to count his breaths, but plastered against Kihyun, pushed into a dark corner? That seemed ok. 

Yoongi really needed to get a handle on this crush.

“Anyone else coming?” he yelled, very very casually. 

Kihyun looked surprised, biting his lower lip. “Um, no, I-- no.” He scratched the back of his head. “Minhuykie was thinking of coming, but he uh, he backed out. So.” He shrugged. 

Yoongi nodded, trying to think of something to say, but the lights dimmed and the band started, so he turned to focus on the music. Music was good, music was safe. Music was what he and Kihyun had in common, and no stupid crush was getting in the way of that. 

The band was decent, the beers were as cheap as advertised, and they talked music the whole way back to the bus stop, discussing how they would have arranged the song differently, how Yoongi loved a lot of American music, but why did everyone have to cover American bands all the time? There were plenty of great Korean artists out there, he didn’t need to hear “Mr. Brightside” for the hundredth time. 

“Oh, so you’re saying you’re in to join my Big Bang cover band?” Kihyun asked, his eyebrows going up in an exaggerated look of shock. “I was going to ask, thanks for saving me the trouble.”

And that got them going, talking about seeing Big Bang at the Olympic Arena, comparing favorite songs, singing and rapping at each other in bits until Kihyun’s bus came. 

“Noraebang next time!” Kihyun yelled, as he got on the bus. 

Yoongi gave him a thumbs up and tried, for the rest of his own ride home, not to think too hard about “next time.”

…….

Next time actually turned out to be window shopping in Hongdae several weeks later. They kept messaging each other, but their schedules allowed for precious little free time, and rarely at the same time. 

It was almost Christmas, and Yoongi was getting ready to head back to Daegu in a few days. 

 

_Me [22:45]: practice canceled, going to spend the afternoon in Hongdae pretending like i can afford stuff  
_

_  
KH [22:48]: want some company?_

 

Yoongi tried not to let himself get flustered, but his heart started pounding a little. Fuck this crush, anyway. 

 

 

_Me [22:53]: yeah, meet me at Hongik station in an hour?_

 

It was cold as hell in Seoul, harsh, biting snowflakes whipping with the wind gusts through the building, pricking at the few inches of skin Yoongi left exposed. He was wearing a t-shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, a hoodie, and his winter coat. Between all that, his beanie, his scarf, and gloves, Yoongi wasn’t sure if Kihyun would actually recognize him. Yoongi himself had a moment of panic looking at all the short, bundled up black-haired guys who seemed to be swarming the streets around Hongik. 

But he recognized Kihyun the second he came out of the station, hands jammed into his pockets, walking briskly and purposefully straight toward Yoongi. “Where are we going?” he asked, without even saying hello. “I’m freezing my ass off.” 

“I’m the one who’s been waiting,” Yoongi said, hitting him in the chest. “So rude.” He didn’t actually have a destination in mind. He needed to get some perfume for his mother, but he really just wanted to get away for a little bit, get out of work mode, get his head on straight before he went home. 

He missed Daegu desperately when he let himself think about it, but when he went home it felt strange, off in a way that gave him vertigo. Nothing was quite like he remembered, himself least of all. When he lay in his childhood bed, he thought about the years he spent dying to be anywhere else, making it big in Seoul, maybe in New York...and he could only feel the weight of his exhaustion, the radiating pain in his shoulder, the sore, stiff knotted muscles of his legs, the crushing weight of his fears and anxieties. He could hear his parents’ worried whispers as he tried to sleep, worming their way into his dreams. 

Yoongi wanted an afternoon where he didn’t have anything more to think about than looking at nice clothes with a friend. Drink some coffee, talk shit, flirt a little. Bangtan was coming together, gearing up for debut, and it felt like the universe was holding its breath, waiting to see if Yoongi had made the biggest mistake of his life. 

Turns out, going shopping with Kihyun wasn’t such a great idea either. They grabbed the perfume pretty quickly, then wandered in and out of a few electronics stores, sipping coffees and talking about the studios they were going to build someday when they were idols. Sometimes, when Yoongi got used to talking to someone through text, it was awkward to see them in person, like meeting them all over again. He and Kihyun slipped right into the same easy banter they did when they were sending each other increasingly ridiculous and exhausted texts late at night. 

Going shopping with Kihyun was a great idea, until it wasn’t anymore. Until Kihyun grabbed Yoongi’s wrist and said, “Come on, let’s try on clothes.” He started pulling Yoongi toward a small boutique. “You have to try on everything when you can’t afford it,” he explained, “then you go home and make a list of what you want. And then you can stalk the sales or look up cheaper prices online.” 

“You sound like my mother,” Yoongi said, but didn’t say that he did the same thing because his mother was a smart woman. 

Going shopping with Kihyun was a really, really bad idea once Kihyun’s coat came off, followed by a sweater, followed by a short-sleeved tee, leaving only a thin, tight white undershirt haphazardly tucked into his jeans. They were in the dressing room (“You can come in, I’m just trying on shirts,” Kihyun had said.) and Kihyun was frowning at a blue button-down with an explosion of chrysanthemums over the front pocket. Yoongi was in hell. 

There was a tiny bare patch of Kihyun’s hip showing, where that goddamn undershirt had ridden up and his jeans had dropped down. It was just the smallest curve of skin, where his soft belly met the hard bone of his hip, and Yoongi wanted desperately to bite it. 

“This might look better on you,” Kihyun was saying, tugging at Yoongi’s coat. “Come on, get your shirt off.” 

This was the worst idea Yoongi ever had.

………  
_KH [11:10]: Hey i have this cousin who’s the assistant manager at this noraebang in Gangnam. Real fancy shit, not your usual sweatbox. She can get us in for a few hours tonight. You busy?_

__

 

_Me [11:12]: I’m free after 10 but do you really want to hear my singing voice._

 

__

__

_KH [11:12]: Yeah it’s good for my ego._

 

_  
Me [11:13]: Asshole. Fine, I’ll go but I’m making you rap._

 

 

Kihyun’s cousin was a petite woman of around 30, with the same angular cast to her features, but somehow less harsh. Soojin-ssi smiled broadly when she saw them. “Ah, my baby cousin who only calls when he wants something,” she said, her warm tone softening her words. “You’re babysitting next time you can make it home. I need a night out.” She led them past several rooms, definitely a step up from the usual beer-and soju-stained, thin-walled noraebang rooms Yoongi was used to. 

“You got it, noona,” Kiihyun said, kissing her cheek. “Did you know you’re my favorite cousin?”

Soojin rolled her eyes at Yoongi. “He’s full of crap,” she said to him, “but we love him for some reason.” She turned to Kihyun and ticked off the rules on her fingers. “You have the room for three hours, unless the rooms are full and I have someone waiting. Then you get booted for the paying customers. You don’t order drinks. You can’t afford them and I’m not paying for them. If you brought your own booze, I don’t want to know about it. And the place better be spotless when you leave, got it?”

She left with both of their promises that they would be good, clean, upstanding young men with nothing to worry about. As soon as the door closed behind her, Kihyun pulled out a bottle of soju and flopped on the very, very nice couch along the far wall. “Ok, who’s first?” 

Yoongi walked over to the display and scrolled through the selection. “Oh, you’re first,” he said. Kihyun had also somehow found two mismatched glasses and pulled those out of his bag. Yoongi waited until he was done pouring, then pressed play. 

He was glad he waited, because Kihyun still almost managed to drop the bottle, laughing his ass off, as the opening chords of “Mr Brightside” filled the room. 

“Oh fuck you, no,” Kihyun said. “No fucking way. Put on some Super Junior or some shit, let me show you what I can really do.”

They traded songs for an hour, knocked back the bottle of soju between them. Yoongi wasn’t drunk really, but he was feeling warm and loose. He loved watching Kihyun sing, the way he sang with his whole body, bending backward for the harder notes and curling forward to cradle the mic during the emotional parts. He could have watched him all night, splayed out on the couch, cradling the half-full glass of soju. 

However, Yoongi was too much of a show-off for that. “I’m going to freestyle,” he announced, hauling himself off the couch. “I haven’t done that in forever.” He hadn’t, and he was feeling it tonight. He was buzzed, on edge. The room was a little overheated and he’s spent the past hour watching his friend and stupid, unrequited crush sing like a goddamn angel, his thin button-down shirt sticking to his damp skin. Yoongi watched a bead of sweat trace its way from behind Kihyun’s ear, down his neck, and into chain of his necklace. It was way too much, and Yoongi needed to burn some energy. 

He put on a beat, turned off the machine’s scoring system, cleared his throat, and asked Kihyun. “Are you ready?” 

Kihyun was wiping his face with a napkin and stopped, lowering his hand. He swallowed hard and looked -- again, there was that look -- at Yoongi, swallowing hard. “Probably not,” he said, a wry smile teasing around his mouth. 

“Probably not,” Yoongi agreed. He dropped his head, shook out his shoulder, and got a better grip on the mic. “Let’s go,” he said in English, and went the fuck off. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was rapping for. Yoongi was going hard, sweating and spitting into the mic. He couldn’t see Kihyun anymore, couldn’t see anything but the multicolored lights of the noraebang, reflecting behind his eyelids. He was panting, spitting faster and faster, the feeling building in his chest, sweat dripping down his temples, a droplet working its way down his chest. His shirt was slightly open and sticky, but he didn’t care. He was on fucking fire and he knew it, the rightness of every word, every beat resonating through his body. 

He could feel the beat building and building and dropping, the music cut out from under him as the song ended, and he was so worked up, he couldn’t quite finish the words. Instead, Yoongi heard himself laugh, a deep, throaty laugh that comes up from inside him. It was pure joy and sweat and music, and it was the very best moment in his goddamn fucking life so far. 

Yoongi opened his eyes, wiping his face with his sleeve. He was smiling, grinning from ear to to ear. He knew he looked cocky but he just couldn’t help it. 

Kihyun’s arms were halfway up, caught in a soundless cheer. HIs mouth was open and he was just staring, staring at Yoongi and being perfectly still. The air felt thicker for a moment, hotter, a flush working its way up Yoongi’s chest and into his cheeks. He was on fire, inside and out, and he wanted to feel something from Kihyun. A hug, a yell, (a fuck) something so he could just keep on feeling this way. 

“Shit,” Kihyun said, still staring, licking his lips. “Fuck, that was hot.” 

The fire flooding through Yoongi was doused in freezing water. He could feel his stomach and legs shaking, the fear of discovery, fear for himself and for Kihyun, the terror of such things being said out loud -- that outweighed the arousal he was feeling a minute ago, just for a second. 

And then he looked at Kihyun who was white as the ghost Yoongi thought he was when they first met, his mouth tight and his eyes jittering from side to side. “I-- I didn’t--” 

Yoongi could have said,”I’ve fucked guys before” or “It’s okay” or “I’m not going to tell anyone” or, more honestly, “I jerked off to that song you sent me last week,” but he was not great with words when it wasn't music, so he grabbed Kihyun by the shirt, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him. 

There was a moment where Kihyun froze and tensed up, his arms coming up defensively, thinking Yoongi was going to fight him, but once he realized what was happening, he wrapped his hand around the back of Yoongi’s neck and opened his mouth, pulling him closer. 

“Fuck,” Kihyun panted, dropping kisses up and down Yoongi’s neck. “We could have been doing this the whole time? Shit.” 

“I can’t believe you couldn’t tell,” Yoongi said, raking his hands down Kihyn’s sides and grabbing his belt loops. “I’ve been walking around half hard since we met, fuck.” He yanked Kihyun’s hips forward, grinding unashamedly on him. He was hard as hell and it had been way too long, and he had his arms full of hot boy and he wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. 

Kihyun was hard too, his hands locked on to Yoongi’s ass, trying to get them as close as possible between layers of denim. “I jerked off to the song you sent me,” Kihyun whispered into Yoongi’s ear, then immediately buried his face in Yoongi’s neck, blushing hot against his skin. Yoongi almost killed the mood by laughing, until he could get out that yeah, maybe they were both music pervs, and he maybe couldn’t listen to Kihyun’s music in public anymore because he might embarrass himself. 

The friction they were getting was almost enough, so much so that they were barely making out anymore, just panting, mouths open, grinding hard against each other against the tastefully glossy wall of the noraebang room. Yoongi wasn’t quite sure he could get off like this, but he was sure as hell willing to try. His breath hitched as Kihyun’s hand blundered over his nipple, his knuckles brushing over the sensitive skin, shooting sensation right to Yoongi’s cock. Fuck, okay, he didn’t care who saw, he was getting his dick out right here in the fucking noraebang. 

“You like that?” Kihyun asked, his eyes dark. He wet his lips. 

Suddenly there was a burst of noise from the hallway, some women laughing, indistinct and muffled. The women passed by the room, their laughter fading into the ambient whump whump of the mixed beats coming from the various rooms. “My cousin will kill me if she finds us fucking in this room,” Kihyun said. “Like actual death, and maybe also telling my mother, which would--” he shuddered. “Let’s just hope for death.” 

“Right.” Yoongi let his head fall forward into Kihyun’s shoulder, catching his breath. “We could go to my place? Namjoon and Hobi know about uh, about me,” he gestured between them, indicating his total lack of heterosexuality. “But they don’t know about you, and I totally understand if you don’t want them to.” 

Kihyun let Yoongi go, not roughly, but carefully, deliberately putting some space between them. He wasn’t the kind of person to make rash decisions. Yoongi knew this, and he was glad he was thinking about it carefully. “Well, I’ve never heard rumors about you. So. They must be pretty good at keeping secrets.” He bit his lip, his gaze fixed on Yoongi’s mouth.

Yoongi laughed. “They’re terrible at keeping secrets, actually. But they’re good at being friends, and they wouldn’t fuck either of us over like that.” 

Kihyun nodded. “Ok. Let’s do it.” He reached out and snagged Yoongi’s wrist, pulling him in for another kiss. 

“Quickly,” Yoongi mumbled against his mouth, “before I blow you on that couch and let you explain the stains to your cousin.” Kihyun gasped and let his eyes flutter shut. 

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“Hopefully soon,” Yoongi said, pulling him toward the door. “Now let’s get out of here.”

 

…….

They burst into the apartment in a tangle of limbs and giggles. As soon as the door was shut behind them, Kihyun plastered himself against Yoongi’s back, palming his ass and mouthing at his neck. Yoongi could hear Hoseok singing in the shower. Namjoon was nowhere in sight. 

“This way,” Yoongi said, pointing while tipping his head back to give Kihyun better access. Fuck, he had sharp teeth. Every scrape sent shivers all the way down to his toes. He got it together enough to turn around and pull Kihyun into a deep kiss, letting his hands wander over his shoulders and around the back of his neck. “Bedroom,” he mumbled against Kihyun’s lips. “Now.”

Yoongi grabbed his hand and marched into the bedroom, yanking the door open to a startled Namjoon, who squawked and almost dropped the book he was reading onto his face. He was on his bed and one of his legs kicked out, setting off a small avalanche of plushies. 

“Get out,” Yoongi snapped, shoving Kihyun -- who was trying to introduce himself politely -- onto the bed. “We’re going to fuck.” 

Kihyun dropped onto the bed, curled up into a ball and rolled over onto his side, facing the wall. “Oh god,” he moaned, hiding his face in his scarf. “Please stop. Stop talking” The tips of his ears were bright red. He started giggling helplessly. 

“Oh! Oh? Ok!” Namjoon scrambled to get up, grabbing his book, his phone, and, at the last minute, his best set of noise-canceling headphones. “Ok, I’m just gonna - Yeah. I’m gonna go? But I just want you to know that I am very supportive, very very--”

“Tell me later,” Yoongi said, pulling off his jacket. Kihyun was still slowly liquefying with embarrassment on the bed, his face hidden. 

“Right, got it,” Namjoon said, pulling the door closed behind him, tripping on the pile of plushies as he went. “Nice to meet you, Kihyun-ssi!” he yelled through the closed door. There was another slam, some muffled banging, then a loud burst of music erupted from the living room, slightly muffled but immediately recognizable. 

“Wow,” Yoongi said, laughing, while trying to peel Kihyun’s hands away from his face. “I’ve always wanted to get laid to the Mario theme at top volume.” He crawled onto the bed, half on top of Kihyun. Then he decided that wasn’t good enough and straddled him, knees on either side of Kihyun’s hips, and sat up, his hands still on Kihyun’s wrists. 

Kihyun dropped his hands. His face was still red and his dimples had popped out on the tops of his cheeks. “Are you saying you’ve never gotten laid to the Mario theme? Surprising and a little disappointing.” Yoongi gave into the impulse he’d been fighting for months, and ran his fingers across Kihyun’s face, dipping into his dimples and over his cheekbones. Kihyun hissed in a breath, dark eyes looking up at him. 

“First time for everything,” Yoongi said, bending down to kiss him again, slow and slick and dirty. 

Kihyun arched up under him, gripping Yoongi’s hips and pulling him down tight while grinding up against him. The sudden friction made Yoongi pull away from the kiss, sloppily trailing his lips across Kihyun’s cheek. “Yes,” he gasped. “Like that.” Kihyun did it again, and again and again, rough and blunted through the denim of their jeans. 

Yoongi’s hands fumbled over the buttons of Kihyun’s shirt, his hands starting to sweat. “Let me,” Kihyun said, half sitting up. “You do you.” Yoongi undid half the buttons of his shirt, then ungracefully yanked it over his head, trying not to catch the buttons on his necklaces, and tossed it on the floor. By the time he could see again, Kihyun was just wearing that damned white undershirt, his other shirt unbuttoned and hanging loose. Yoongi ran his fingers along the strip of skin exposed on one hip, where his undershirt was riding up, the same patch of skin he had been fixated on when they were shopping. “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he said.

Kihyun didn’t answer; he just sat up and wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist, scraping his teeth across Yoongi’s nipple. “Fuck,” Yoongi panted. “This is going to be over really fucking quick if you keep doing that.” He needed to get these jeans off; his cock was throbbing in a way that was almost painful, but he was also afraid that the pressure might make him come in his pants, and then subsequently die of embarrassment. Terrible way to go. “Let me, ” he said, popping the button on his jeans and wriggling his hips, causing Kihyun to hiss and press his nails into the soft muscle next to Yoongi’s spine. 

“Yeah,” Kihyun said and rolled over, flipping Yoongi on his side. They were both wearing tight jeans and Yoongi didn’t even bother trying to make a show of getting Kihyun’s off. Doing it themselves would be faster, way less effort. Yoongi canted his hips up and shimmied out of his jeans, which gave him the space to feel like maybe he wasn’t going to come the literal second Kihyun put his hand on his cock. 

He and Kihyun turned and reached for each other at the same time, finding their way to kissing again, Yoongi propped up on one elbow, Kihyun on his back. It was warm and sweet and more affectionate than Yoongi had experienced in years. Trainee life didn’t leave a lot of time for sex, never mind relationships, and the bulk of his experience was relegated to mostly-chaste flirting in high school, or quick, stress-relieving fucks after picking someone up at a bar. This was his friend, his friend who he could send music to and trade shopping tips with, who understood the sacrifices Yoongi was making. He was his friend, and at the same time, he was fucking hot and solid and real and writhing under Yoongi, biting at his lip. It was the best of both goddamn worlds, and Yoongi decided he’d had enough of waiting. That little curve of hip had been tormenting him for months and driving an embarrassing number of his jerk-off fantasies. 

“I’m gonna blow you,” he said, scraping his teeth along Kihyun’s ribs, then moving down to suck a bruise into his hip. That fucker is mine now, he thought, and the idea of it was so appealing, he bit and sucked his other hipbone, his hands splayed on Kihyun’s thighs. 

“Better do it soon.” Kihyun said, his voice harsh and unsteady. He canted his hips upward. “Fuck. This is gonna-” He covered his face with his arm. “Just hurry,” he said, and he was so hard, his cock straining against his stomach, that Yoongi knew he could probably make him come like this, just kissing and biting him all over. 

But that’s not what he wanted. He didn’t give much warning, just took Kihyun’s cock right down, no teasing, trying not to gag as Kihyun thrust his hips raggedly, babbling a stream of profanities and apologies. He hadn’t given head in years and it was sloppy, too much spit and the occasional scrape of teeth, but it felt amazing to have his mouth filled like this, the intimacy of skin on skin, sweating and panting in time with another person. He ground his own aching cock into the mattress, rubbing against the side of Kihyun’s leg, and just that touch of skin was almost enough to have him coming into the sheets.

“Gonna--” Kihyun gasped after just a few minutes, tapping at Yoongi’s shoulder. “I’m gonna-- now--” Yoongi wasn’t great at swallowing so he pulled off and jerked him through it, watching Kihyun arch off the bed, coming for an impressively long time. 

At least, Yoongi was pretty damn impressed with himself. 

Kihyun, who was apparently a monster who needed zero recovery after coming his brains out, reached for Yoongi and pulled him in for a kiss. “I can’t blow you, I have to sing,” he said, reaching down to take a hold of Yoongi’s cock. “But I can--” he started jerking Yoongi off slowly, at a weird angle, but enough that Yoongi felt his gut tighten. Kihyun pulled him closer, letting him roll on top of Kihyun, so the head of his cock dragged through the mess on Kihyun’s stomach with every stroke. “Fuck,” Yoongi whispered. “Yeah.” 

It wasn’t long before he was thrusting into Kihyun’s hand, pushing down onto his slick belly and chest in ragged strokes. “Yeah, yeah,” he chanted, his orgasm hitting him in a blinding rush. He tensed, pulsing against Kihyun’s sweaty, sticky skin, gasping into his neck.

“Shit,” he said, rolling away. “Shit.”

They lay there panting for a bit, staring at the ceiling. Yoongi felt amazing, fucked out and relaxed. He bridged the small gap between their hands, hooking their pinkies together.

“This is the best day of my life,” Kihyun said, and he sounded so serious that Yoongi started giggling. “I’m going to celebrate this day every year, with a cake and everything.” He curled his fingers against Yoongi’s. “This is the day Min Yoongi blew my brains out.” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty amazing, I agree,” Yoongi said, and Kihyun tried to kick him, but it was pretty pathetic, more of a leg twitch than an actual kick. 

“I need a shower,” Kihyun said. “Oh shit, I can’t go back to the dorms smelling like this.”

“Relax,” Yoongi said. “You can use our shower. And we’re about the same size, I’ll give you some clothes.” He picked up his phone to check the time, and saw that he had a text from Hobi. 

 

_HS [24:33]: Namjoon and I are going to the studio, back in a few hours. Pls be dressed, neither of us wants to see your dick.  
_

 

__

_Me [01:00]: my dick is amazing, you wish you were so lucky. We’ll be out of here in a bit._

 

_HS [01:01]: i’m happy for you, you know that, right?_

 

_  
Me [01:01]: gross, stop_

 

They showered (separately, because the shower was barely big enough to turn around in) and got dressed pretty quickly. They didn’t talk much but it wasn’t uncomfortable. They just quietly cleaned up and dressed, silently passing each other in the small kitchen. Yoongi wasn’t sure if this was a one-time thing, or if...what, they were boyfriends? That was a ridiculous thought. Trainees rarely had successful relationships and idols sure as hell didn’t, and that wasn’t even factoring in the fact that they were two guys. 

Yoongi thought he knew what he was giving up to try and make it as an idol, but the reality of it kept surprising him in new and depressing ways. He would make the choice again, without a second thought, but sometimes catching glimpses in the mirror of what his life could have been left him feeling a little lost. Out of all those Min Yoongis out there, there was the one who stayed home and went to university, became an accountant, married a nice Daegu girl; there was the rapper, the guy gambling everything on his mixtapes, spitting on the shiny, plastic, sellout idols. And now there was another Min Yoongi, the one who maybe had a boyfriend who made music with him, and they went out on Thursdays to eat noodles and drink beers with their friends. 

But that wasn’t Yoongi’s life. And that wasn’t Kihyun’s life. They were lucky to find what they had tonight, there was no point in being greedy. 

“Do you always mope after sex?” Kihyun asked, startling him out of his thoughts. He came up behind Yoongi and put his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder. “I just want to know what to expect in the future.” He sounded unsure, questioning. 

“Are we doing this again?” Yoongi asked. “I mean- I want to. I want to do this again. It’s just.” He blew out a breath. “This is so hard. We’ll barely see each other.”

“Yeah,” Kihyun said quietly. “But I want to.” 

“It’s not going to be easy,” Yoongi said. 

“But worth it?” Kihyun asked, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah.” Yoongi tipped his head back to lean on Kihyun. “Definitely worth it.”

They didn’t make any promises, didn’t use any labels, and couldn’t say how long it would last, but they had each other, right in that moment, and Yoongi felt like this Min Yoongi, who had his friends and his shitty apartment, and his music, and who had Kihyun in whatever way he could...well, he was pretty goddamn lucky.  
……………………………...

It wasn’t like everything changed after that night. They still barely had time off, went days without messaging each other if their schedules were particularly busy, and weeks without seeing each other. Still, they talked as much as they could, and had truly spectacular sex in some fairly creative places. 

(On one memorable occasion, Yoongi came to visit Kihyun at Starship one night after a late practice. They ended up fucking in a janitor’s closet, Kihyun riding him, Yoongi half-reclined against a box of paper towels. “Hurry,” Yoongi hissed, “someone might hear us,” and Kihyun gasped, stilled, and came untouched all over Yoongi’s shirt. Watching that was so hot, Yoongi came two thrusts later, laughing as soon as he caught his breath. “Wowwww,” he said. “Really?” Shut up,” Kihyun muttered.)

 

Things got even more hectic as Bangtan came together, and he was rooming with all the guys in the dorms with zero privacy. Seokjin-hyung, who was a tall, pretty, well-built college kid that BigHit plucked right off campus, was the oldest hyung now, not that he ever acted like it. He was a kind, calming, and restful person who knew how to respect roommate rules. Jin and Namjoon drove each other nuts, but Yoongi liked him a lot. Best of all, Jin loved the kids, and spent a lot of time goofing around with them while gently steering them toward better behavior. The kids took to following him around like little ducklings, clamoring for his attention, which kept them out of trouble and out of everyone’s hair. 

Jin-hyung was kind and warm and open, which is why Yoongi decided to come clean about his...his thing with Kihyun. He started with “I date guys, but don’t worry, I’m not into you” and followed with “there’s someone...he’s kind of...he’s a trainee, I don’t want to get him in trouble…” and ended, in a sheer conversational panic, by making a roundabout allusion to the fact that he probably wouldn’t have sex in the dorms.

He wasn’t really anticipating any kind of trouble but in retrospect, he should have seen it coming. 

 

“You like guys?” Jin asked, his face soft and serious, a little line appearing between his brows. Yoongi couldn’t read him at all.

“Yeah, and apparently it’s some kind of fucking problem for you?” Yoongi snapped, the cracked weight of his disappointment settling in his chest. 

“You like guys,” Jin repeated slowly. “But not _me_?” His voice squeaked a little at the end. There was a flush on his cheeks and his mouth dropped open a little. 

“...No?” Yoongi said, not really sure where all of this was going. 

“With this face?” Jin asked, gesturing wildly at his admittedly impressive bone structure. “Not even a hint of attraction?” He huffed, crossing his arms. “Unbelieveable. Not even when I’m shirtless?” He pulled at the collar of his shirt dramatically, making an exaggerated pout. “I’m losing my touch,” he said sadly. “Kim Seokjin,” he intoned, wrapping his arm around Yoongi, “the most handsome idol in all of Korea-- in all of Asia! -- and his own bandmate isn’t interested.”

The weight on Yoongi’s chest broke free and he laughed, he couldn’t help it. “Maybe when you’re shirtless, hyung” he said, patting Jin on his shoulder. “I’m only human.” 

 

It’s not that Yoongi didn’t trust the younger guys, but he also didn't think he needed to be spreading his business everywhere. He didn’t know how they’d react, so he kept things as quiet as he could. Kihyun dropped by the dorms sometimes, to pick him up, or they spent time in the studio together, but nothing too obvious, he thought. 

 

Then one day, as Yoongi was puttering around the kitchen getting ready for Kihyun to come by, Jin came in, tossing his keys in the air. “Night off,” he announced, like everyone didn’t already know. “I’ll drive if you guys want to go out. Movie? Dinner?” 

Taehyung and Jimin had been trying to work through a dance move in the too-small space, bumping into each other and laughing. “Yes!” Jimin said, shoving at Tae, who had smacked into him again. “Hyung, you in?” he asked Yoongi, who had his wallet between his teeth while he was tucking his shirt in. 

“Nah,” Tae said distractedly, toeing off his house slippers and rooting around in the pile of shoes near the door, “Hyung’s boyfriend is coming over.” 

Yoongi froze. The wallet dropped out of his mouth with a soft thud. He looked at Jin, who shook his head quickly. Not me, he shrugged. Jimin was leaning against the counter, a hand over his mouth. 

Tae looked up, finally noticing the silence. “What? Did I--” he looked at Jin for help. 

“I think it was supposed to be a secret, Taehyung-ah,” Jin said kindly, ruffling Tae’s hair. “It’s okay, tell hyung you’re not going to out him to everyone before he passes out, okay?” 

“Yoongi-hyung,” Tae said, his voice cracking a little. 

Yoongi came back to himself. This was stupid, they were a band, a team. There was no point in having secrets. He wasn’t upset so much at the idea that everyone knew as he was thrown by the use of the word boyfriend. “It’s ok, Taehyungie,” he said. “Just...we need to be careful, yeah?” 

By the time Kihyun showed up to get him, he’d calmed himself down, except for the word circling his brain, the thought that yeah, it had been months and months since that second meeting, not far from where they were walking now, along the river. 

“The kids know,” Yoongi blurted out. “Everyone knows. They all know. They guessed.” He looked away from Kihyun, staring intently at the shifting water. 

“They know…” Kihyun said, pulling on his arm, clearly wanting Yoongi to turn around, but he couldn’t, not yet. 

“That you’re my boyfriend,” Yoongi said, and immediately wished he could take it back. Their thing was good, but what if it was just... He closed his eyes, his heart pounding so hard, he could see flashes of his pulse behind his eyelids. He couldn’t hear anything but his own heart and his own breathing and he wondered, not for the first time in his life, if you could die from anxiety. 

“Wow,” he finally heard Kihyun say. “That looked painful.” When Yoongi opened his eyes, Kihyun was giving him his best shit-eating grin. “Please don’t hurt yourself discussing your feelings, because I can tell you, that sure was tough to watch.” He started laughing, but his eyes were shining and happy.

“Oh fuck you,” Yoongi said, punching him in the arm. “I’m never talking to you again.” He punched him again, for good measure. 

“That’s no way to treat your boyfriend,” Kihyun said mildly, rubbing his arm. He glanced over at Yoongi and smiled, dimples popping out on his cheeks. He was blushing, not quite meeting Yoongi’s eyes, and Yoongi was glad he wasn’t the only one having a hard time here. 

“Get used to it,” Yoongi said. "Now let's go."

This time, Kihyun was the one who bought the chicken.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to celli and quettaser for the cheerleading and beta work, and to Elisabeth for her professional "is it happy enough?" feedback.
> 
>  
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](http://miss-pamela.tumblr.com)


End file.
